Heroes Like Us
by Witchy Bee
Summary: According to legend the Watcher sent ten heroes to lead the people. Among them was a cursed bard looking for love, an uncouth spy looking for fun, a gluttonous priestess, and a drunken king. What could possibly go wrong?
1. Orpheus The Cursed Bard

Orpheus woke up fully aware of the dark magic clouding his mind again. His room was pitch black and the music box had long since ceased its hypnotic melody. He was wide awake now, already dreading the prospect of yet another day with this damn curse hanging over his head. Orpheus rolled over in bed and tried not to think about the last time Constance had lay beside him, kissed him...

She was the only woman for him, but until he officially broke up with Penelope he could not in good conscience ask for her hand in marriage. It was unfair for everyone involved and he felt horribly guilty. He blamed the curse, but maybe that was just an excuse now.

Orpheus lit the candle that rested on his bedside table. Its flame bathed his room in a flickering light by which he could see his writing desk. Sometimes it soothed his soul to write poetry, but not tonight. All he could do was watch shadows dance across the ceiling and listen to the drunken revelry downstairs.

Eventually he decided to join them. As he descended the stairs, the barman caught his eye and waved him over.

"Have a good nap, did you? Your voice all rested up for tonight?"

"Not tonight, Charles," Orpheus replied. "I could use a drink though."

The barman frowned. Bards brought customers, gave them a reason tot stay and come back again. But Orpheus didn't really need the money anymore. He enjoyed what he did, just not tonight. Not with the curse clinging to him like a leech.

"It'll cost you, in that case," Charles said. "Oh, and Ursula wants her rent early."

"Then tell her to go buy herself one of those 'instantly drunk' potions from Sorceress Callisto, or the one that cures alcoholism. I don't care which."

"She'll need more simoles for that, I think." Orpheus sighed, then handed over the currency to cover both rent and ale. But the ale was for him. "I warn you: it's a bit stale."

"I know." He drank it anyway, and called for another.

The barman frowned again. "Are you certain? You can be a little...depressing when you're drunk."

The bard merely grunted in response.

And so the evening wore on in this manner. His thoughts receded into a daze. That is, until Constance entered the tavern. She was clad in her usual maroon gown that framed her collarbone, neck and bosom perfectly. She was a thin, fair-skinned creature who wore her brunette hair in a braid. Surely a goddess of elegance.

"Why not try to woo her, hey?" Charles suggested, catching the way Orpheus watched Constance. "Y'know, sweet talk her a bit. Maybe give her a rose or something. Dames love that sort of thing."

"I can't," Orpheus lamented, sipping ale from his pint. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and not just because it was cheap ale. "The fates hate me. You know that. Sister Iris says the Watcher has compassion for all Her subjects, but I don't know."

"None of that," the barman waved a hand dismissively. "I want you to march right up on that stage and play a song. Women fall in love with you when you sing."

"I told you I'm not playing tonight." the bard snapped, but another voice answered him.

"Not even for me?" Constance asked sweetly. Merciful Watcher, how long had she been standing there? "I came all this way hoping to hear Chartreusesleeves."

"Uh. y-yes, of course. For you." Despite his eloquence, the bard found himself quite speechless in her presence. He took to the stage, cleared his throat, and began playing his lute. Its rich, melodic sound hushed the crowd. As he sang, his eyes strayed in her direction. Constance was smiling wistfully. The village drunk got up to dance and a few other patrons followed suit. Soon she was twirling along with them like the graceful thing she was.

The bard continued to play. He just wanted her to keep dancing. When the song ended, she clapped the loudest as he took his bow and left the stage.

"With a voice and hands and a mind like yours, you could do so much better than this place." Orpheus looked up. A lady hovered over him. She seemed familiar somehow yet he could not recall her name.

"I'm sorry, miss," he said sincerely. "I feel as though I've seen you before but your identity escapes me."

"As it should be," the lady grinned. "Don't worry; I get that a lot. You may call me Violette. I work for the crown to a certain capacity, and I know King Ulysses has shown some interest in you as well. There was talk of making you the official royal bard. You've done quite well for yourself."

"How do you know these things?" Orpheus narrowed his eyes. He was starting to grow wary of this Violette's sudden appearance.

"It's my job to know things, sweetie," she replied without hesitation. "I also know you love that pretty little thing over there, but you feel as though you can't get close to her. Someone put a spell on you? No matter: I can get close to her for you."

"Why would you help me?"

Violette shrugged. "I simply noticed you were all alone and thought you might appreciate some company. It all right if you'd prefer the company of a dame such as her. I'm not offended. My point is, I can find out what she thinks of you, and if all goes well maybe I could even put in a good word on your behalf."

"I assume there is a catch." There always was.

"Ah, right you are," the spy agreed. "Nothing in this world is free, especially when we have taxes to pay. My services aren't exactly cheap, but I'll give you a discount because this sounds like fun."

Orpheus couldn't believe he was about to purchase a spy's services for such a personal matter that he should be able to handle alone. Violette at least had the potential to be an interesting acquaintance. Maybe the Watcher really was looking out for him, or maybe this would all end in failure.

)O(

**A/N:** Violette actually has three fatal flaws. She's uncouth, licentious, and a bit of a compulsive gambler. She should be a fun character to write. Also note that this story was translated from its original Simlish. Please review!


	2. Spy Violette The Lucky: Fortuna

**A/N:**I should have mentioned before that this is all based on actual events.

Remember: every time you review, a pit monster is saved from certain death and given a good home in captivity with lots of villagers to eat, not to mention love!

)O(

"Hey there, Beasty," Violette greeted as she walked to the edge of the pit, noting the skeletons and fresh corpses strewn about. "I brought supper, but it looks like you've already had quite a feast today." She laughed at her own comment while dangling most a raw chicken above the gaping hole. The creature presumably smelled the meat and rose its great, blue, lizard-like head from the depths. "Remember: my hand is not part of the meal. It's mostly bones so you wouldn't want it anyway."

Feeding the beast had become something of a ritual for her. Always at night so people didn't think she was, you know, touched in the head. Violette was fascinated by its behavior, and wondered if perhaps it ate other things besides people. (It was quite useful when disposing of the occasional human remains that resulted as an unfortunate side effect of her work.)

What she found truly unbelievable was that no one knew exactly what the creature was. It had no name other than beast or monster. Perhaps some sort of dragon that lived underground or maybe a land-dwelling sea serpent. Not many dared to venture down there willingly, and most those brave and stupid knights who did ended up becoming Beasty's next meal.

Violette often tried to feed it particularly large amounts of poultry before one of her 'business associates' was scheduled to be executed. It never worked, but it felt better to do something proactive, lessened the guilt.

Not that Violette blamed Beasty. No, it couldn't help its nature any more than she could help hers. The fact that members of her species just happened to be its prey was not its fault. It was a design flaw, if anything.

"Promise me that if and when my time comes, you'll devour me quickly." she muttered to the creature. It growled in response. It was a low, pacified sound. That was enough for her. Violette wondered, briefly, if the beast ever got lonely.

)O(

She returned to her home on the east wing of the castle, which was this semi-secret place where Violette and her clan could work in relative peace without being drawing too much unwanted attention to themselves.

All things considered, she was rather lucky. Her life sounded like a story; common criminal turned royal spy who befriends a misunderstood, man-eating beast. And Violette's luck didn't stop there either. How many times had she been saved from the stocks or dealt a winning hand at cards when she wasn't even cheating?

This made Violette think of the bard. A chronically unlucky soul, he was. She honestly did want to help him, and not just because she was bored. It shouldn't be too difficult; a little truth tonic ought to do the trick. Child's play, really, but Orpheus didn't know that.

Violette smiled at her devious plan. Say this dame had no interest in him, then she would be there to provide comfort and a shoulder to cry on, his one true friend. How could she deny that Orpheus was handsome? It want beyond his muscular build and long, straight black hair. Violette had seen it when he stood up to sing; the way he brought such life to the stage. Orpheus could have any woman he wanted, and he wanted Constance. It did not, however, go beyond physical attraction. He was cursed. What if he ruined Violette's good luck?

"You seem very thoughtful tonight, dear Nightshade," Fenrel, a member of Violette's clan, remarked. He called her that because he had decided her given name did not suit her at all, as she was a beautiful but poisonous specimen. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," she assured him, knowing he didn't really want the truth anyway. "I just had an interesting encounter this evening."

"Oh?" Fenrel's eyes brightened. "What sort of encounter?"

"It's actually rather dull." The only encounters that enticed him were those of a sexual or violent kind. Fenrel was this unchivalrous knight/spy from Advorton who got his thrills from both bloodsport and more...intimate adventures. Violette wasn't sure if he'd officially immigrated or just offered his services to King Ulysses for the excitement of it. Regardless, he had eyes for her, and although Violette was somehow simultaneously repulsed and intrigued, the latter mattered more.

So she allowed him to do what he wished with her. And why not? Violette had cheated death, games, merchants, and lovers countless times. Those Advortons were right about one thing: if you're not having fun, what's the point of living?

)O(

Violette knelt before the throne, unkempt red hair falling over her eyes. She looked through the strands at King Ulysses, who was motioning for her to rise. He was a good man, but a drunk one, which had the potential to make him a bad ruler. Ulysses Ulysses proved to be the sort of rare functional alcoholic.

"There have been whispers among the Yacothian diplomats that war may be a possibility," Violette gave her report. "A forceful conversion, I think. They believe it's what the Watcher demands."

The kingdom in which she lived was dominantly Peteran. Conflict with the Jacoban capitol of the world seemed inevitable but hopefully avoidable. The writings of Peter described a compassionate, benevolent Watcher. But if Jacob's Sword were to invaded, armed with their faith in a vengeful Watcher, Violette doubted that either faction would be saved.

"I am a firm believer in man's right to express his or her faith in whatever way that person chooses, and I would go to war over such a right if need be, but I will not subject my people to persecution." King Ulysses replied solemnly. In his prime, he'd spilled a great deal of blood on the battlefield. Now he sat here, fat and drunk with fine gray hair. But his heart bled compassion, like the Watcher he believed in.

Violette didn't believe in anything. Why look to the sky for some greater meaning when there was so much taking place down here among the common folk? In fact, the closest thing she had to divinity was luck. It did not answer Violette's prayers but it seemed to favor her and that would just have to be enough.

)O(

**A/N:** Like my super vague, implied "woohoo" scene? I get more detailed in future chapters, I'm sure. Speaking of future chapters, next we have good King Ulysses Ulysses the Inebriated!


	3. Good King Ulysses The Inebriated!

The troubling news brought by Violette hounded Ulysses Ulysses well into his third goblet of wine that night. It simply refused to leave him alone. War was not something he wanted to think about, but if he didn't handle it, the people would live in fear. No one should have to fear the Watcher. The king had no reason to distrust his spy's information. Violette had never been wrong before. She was reliable, and Ulysses knew not to ask about her sources. Usually he wouldn't want to know.

Soon he reached a blissful state of half-awareness. A stray thought drifted in and out of focus, hovering in front of his mind's eye. Dr. Fairley, that damn surgeon who liked to remind him of how he was getting older and he really shouldn't drink so much. Ulysses was _king_, therefore he could drink whenever he pleased as long as it didn't put the kingdom in jeopardy. True, he remained unmarried and without an heir, and at this age it was unlikely either would happen. But Ulysses planned to pick a worthy successor to lead this great nation after his passing; maybe his royal adviser, or even Violette!

Ulysses laughed out loud at such a prospect. Oh, the nobility would be furious! He'd saved the girl from the stocks on a whim. Chances were she'd have been thrown into the pit soon enough otherwise; after a person is caught so many times for minor offenses, the constable grows tired of letting them go so they can just keep stealing. It wasn't until after that Ulysses realized her potential.

But that was all in the past now. There were certain matters to attend to, such as the missive announcing his distant cousin's arrival in the kingdom. They hadn't parted on the best of terms, but maybe this could be a chance to put that behind them. So, on the day William arrived, Ulysses instructed the servants to prepare a great feast and also treat his cousin with the same amount of respect they would him. It had been years since they'd seen one another. Still, family resemblance was unmistakable.

"My cousin, the king!" William exclaimed, beaming. "I can scarcely believe it! You know, when you on that mad voyage—How long was it? A year? Year and a half?—Well, we all thought you were lost at sea...Remember what you said before you left?"

Ulysses nodded. "That I'd write when I found the other side of the world."

"That was it. You should have seen the look on your mother's face when the letter finally arrived." he smiled at the memory. "Now here you are, all these people looking up to you, serving you...It must be quite grand." His cousin never was a very ambitious man. Unlike him, try as he might William couldn't change his lot in life, and he didn't try too hard either. But he refused to be content.

"It's also a huge responsibility to rule a kingdom. I sacrificed much to get where I am today," Ulysses glanced meaningfully at his cousin. "Including my family."

Silence followed. Then, "There's someone I would like you to meet."

The king was vaguely intrigued. "Who?"

"A woman, very pretty and virtuous. I think you'll get along famously."

In walked said woman, who was indeed rather remarkable. She bowed to him and introduced herself as Simone. She smiled with all her teeth. A servant brought sweet wine. Ulysses quickly lost himself in mirth. They drank and talked until late into the evening. When Simone leaned in for a kiss, he did not pull away.

Then everything went black, quiet and still.

Ulysses dreamed.

"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!"

"Will you pay me now?" Simone asked impatiently.

"Just wait, dear lady," William replied. "Soon the gold shall start flowing in, and everything will be put right."

She sighed. "As you wish..."

Together they dragged Ulysses sleeping form out of the castle.

)O(

Alexander Fairley considered himself a relatively uncomplicated man. He never questioned authority, always paid his taxes on time, and sat in the back of the monastery during church. In short, his was a simple but fulfilling existence. During the day, Fairley could usually be found looking after patients in his clinic, or making trips to the village if they were too ill to come to him. At night, he occasionally visited the local tavern.

It wasn't entirely true that Fairley never questioned authority, He did, as any informed person should, but he kept those questions to himself. That is, until he began to suspect something was terribly amiss with King Ulysses. It was one thing to ask for gold so that your sick cousin can afford decent treatment, but the amounts he now requested were frankly unreasonable and absurd. Fairley knew how much medicine costs, and most villagers couldn't even scrape together enough funds to purchase it for themselves let alone someone else.

That's when he noticed the young woman pouring herself a drink. He could have sworn he knew her. A former patient, perhaps? No, that seemed unlikely. Fairley would remember if a girl like that had ever been laid out on his operating table. She took a seat in a corner close to the stone oven. After some hesitation, he decided to approach her.

"Pardon me, miss, but—"

"Let me guess," she cut him off. "I look familiar, but you cannot recall my name to save your life? It's Violette, Violette Trender, and you're not the first to tell me that, so don't worry about it."

"Ah...Well, I should—"

"Pull up a chair," Violette finished for him yet again. "I don't bite...most of the time." He laughed, hoping it sounded easy and not uncomfortable like he was now. Fairley sat down across from the red-haired woman while her eyes searched his face. "And you are?"

"Alexander Fairley, local surgeon."

"Oh yes, now I remember," Violette smiled warmly. "They really sing your praises down in the village. People owe you their lives, Dr. Fairley."

"I do what I can." he said, gazing into his wine, wanting to accept the compliment but only thinking of all the people he couldn't save and those who still needed him while he was busy drinking in a tavern. "And what do you do, Violette?"

"For money or for fun?" was her response.

"Either, I suppose."

"The answer for both is the same," she smirked. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." It took a minute for that to fully sink into his slightly alcohol-addled mind. Then all he could do was blink at her until she started speaking again. "Seriously though, I'm working on the king's behalf."

This piqued Fairley's interest. "Has he been acting at all...odd to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I cannot be certain, but I think...possibly..." Fairley lowered his voice. "The monarch may be an impostor."

Violette smiled wide. "Figured that out, have you?"

"You...knew?"

She shrugged. "I have my suspicions."

That cinched it. They were perhaps the only two people in the kingdom who had even the faintest idea of what was going on. It just made sense to pool their knowledge and work together toward a common goal. With luck, they would be successful.

)O(

**A/N:** I'm basically combing The Case of A Missing Monarch and The Monarch's Medicine quests here, which means this is officially AU, like most things I write. But it provides for some very nice bonding time for Fairley and Violette. Soon I'll introduce the rest of our heroes and get back to resolving Orpheus' problems.


	4. Potions & Poisons

**A/N:** All right, so...this chapter's length ran away with me...a lot. But we do get to see a little of Callisto. Next chapter will resolve our monarch-related issues and so on.

)O(

"My theory is this," Violette leaned in close so they would not be overheard. "You see that fellow over there? That's King Ulysses' new royal adviser. His old one was tossed in the pit because he got in the way or something. Anyway, he claims the king had a lover, and that Ulysses' personal servant knows the identity and location of this woman."

"I thought that was merely a rumor."

"So did I," she admitted. "But the truth serum doesn't lie. It can't."

"What truth serum?"

"The truth serum I put in his drink, of course," Fairley made a mental note to himself not to get on this woman's bad side. "Now, I don't know how this alleged lover fits into the whole scheme yet, but I intend to find out. What made you suspect King Ulysses wasn't himself?"

"Well..." He suddenly realized how flimsy his evidence actually was. "Something just seemed strange about his most recent decree."

"The gold," Violette guessed, frowning.

"Yes, the amounts of it were...staggering."

She nodded. "I think this cousin may be the person we're looking for."

"But why would he leave a trail straight to himself?"

"Simple, honey, he's stupid." Violette said. "Now, I'm going to pay Ulysses' supposed lover a visit. You should dig up whatever you can on our friend William. Meet me at the castle by sunset. Do you know where the spy quarters is? That tower next to the reception hall, opposite the barracks. You can't miss it." Then she was gone.

It didn't take long for Fairley to confirm their suspicions. William didn't just leave a paper trail, but a body trail as well. The rate at which people, mostly innocents, were being sent to the stocks or the pit was increasing at an alarming rate. Looks like Beasty's getting quite the feast, Violette had said. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but he eventually secured the proof needed to reveal the usurper's identity. All that was left was to be rid of him and find King Ulysses.

Upon entering the "spy quarters" Fairley discovered a rather elaborately decorated guest room befitting a castle. A fireplace full of embers dominated one wall along with an empty golden basin, while a desk took up another across from a soft-looking bed. The bed was unmade, but the rest of this room seemed almost too organized, untouched even. Fairley examined the locked diary on the desk. Violette didn't strike him as the sort of girl who kept a diary.

"It's not mine," Her voice startled him. The diary fell from his hands. "Just something to make this room appear more lived in than it is. Clever, huh? Well, come on upstairs so we can talk privately."

She led him through a door that opened from a blank wall panel and became a set of dark, winding stairs. He was relieved when they finally emerged into an entirely different room. This one was larger, with a crafting table similar to his own, a place to play cards, two practice dummies that appeared worn down from sword-marks, and...Oh Watcher, were those cages? Surely those weren't skeletons...?

"I don't have much as far as chairs."

"I could just stand." he offered.

"No, I'm not _that_ terrible of a hostess. We'll just sit here." She pulled a chair away from the card table and sat down, motioning for him to do the same. Once they were both settled, he told her about the locket and the impostor's failure to recall what was inscribed on it. Everything fit perfectly. William had the motivation, too: envy.

"What did his 'lover' have to say?"

"Oh, it's _rich_," Violette laughed. "Simone claims she woke up to find Ulysses missing, but if you ask me, she's the reason for it. Poor girl doesn't even know her own story very well. She's a terrible actress. I barely had to put in any effort at all to get this," She held up a leaf. "I'm not sure what it is yet, but I think Simone—"

"It is an ingredient in sleeping draught," Fairley said immediately. "I make it for Callisto all the time."

Violette blinked at him. "But...she's a sorceress! Can't she craft her own potions?"

"You try crafting anything when you haven't slept in three days."

"Good point," she admitted. "So Simone puts a little sleeping draught in Ulysses' drink, he's knocked out, then they hide him somewhere and William is free to take the throne!" There it was, all put together, out in the open. But what to do about it? "I think we both know what must be done."

Fairley ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair. He knew exactly what she meant, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. "You are not suggesting..."

"William needs to die," Violette spoke solemnly, voice low and sure. "You've never killed anyone before."

It wasn't a question. "Not intentionally," he said just as quietly. He remembered every patient ever to die on his operating table, every would-be mother who didn't survive childbirth for one reason or another. Fairley dreaded the prospect of taking a life on purpose. Watcher knew he already had enough guilt for those he'd killed by accident.

"Then I'll do it," Violette stood up and walked over to her crafting table, picking up the mortar and pestle. "You look exhausted. Go downstairs, get some sleep. I'll be fine here. I need concentration anyway."

"But—" It seemed terribly rude to take her bed.

"I'll be fine." she insisted. Reluctantly, Fairley descended the staircase in the wall once again. He lay there for a while, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind spinning with thoughts of the fantastically weird woman. Finally, he managed to drift off into a light sleep, dreamless. When Fairley woke up, it took him a moment to remember where he was. Then he remembered Violette was still up there, crafting her poison. And although he didn't want to disturb her, it seemed more rude not to at least ask if she needed anything.

She was lying on her side, asleep on the ground. It didn't look comfortable at all, or particularly good for her, in his professional opinion. He couldn't simply leave her there, could he? Of course not. So Fairley carefully picked the girl up, which wasn't difficult since she weighed almost nothing. Violette's eyes fluttered open as he carried her down the stairs.

"Hmm?" she asked sleepily.

"You were sleeping on the floor," Fairley explained. "I am taking you to bed."

"Mmm..." Her eyes fell shut again and she rested her head against his shoulder. There was a thin smile on her lips. Violette looked like a child when she slept, a child with a knife under her pillow.

)O(

Fairley returned to his clinic and absently kept himself busy. He examined patients, but today's case load was surprisingly light. Then he researched symptoms, crafted potions, even collected leeches on the beach. It never occurred to him that he was unknowingly waiting for Violette.

"Surgeon Fairley?" Callisto called out from the doorway. She wore a long, rather fancy, blue dress that exposed her throat and most of her chest. Her pale face was framed by thin blond hair, cut short, a look that worked for Violette but not for someone so feminine. He could still see slight dark circles beneath Callisto's eyes.

"Ah...Greetings."

"Are you okay? You got home quite late last night." Sometimes he forgot she actually lived in the cold, vacant-looking tower next to his clinic. Callisto generally kept to herself; it took her months to come to him for a sleeping draught. At first there had been some tension between them, for he was a man of science and she a lady of magic. But their goal was ultimately the same: helping people, even if their methods differed greatly.

"I'm all right, thank you," he replied. "And how do you fare? Have you been sleeping well?"

Callisto pursed her lips and shook her head. "I fear I've become...somewhat dependent on the potions."

"There is no shame in taking medicine you need." he told her. Then Fairley went to get the potion, and when he returned Callisto was sitting in a chair. She was crying but tried to hide it.

"I'm sorry..."

"No, no, I understand," He offered her a handkerchief to dry her eyes as well as the sleeping draught. "You are exhausted...emotional."

"Thank you, Physician."

"We're neighbors," He smiled slightly. "Please call me Alexander."

"As you wish, Alexander." The sorceress got up to leave, but he had one more thing he wanted to say.

"Callisto?"

She turned toward him. "Yes?"

"Pleasant dreams."


	5. The Tide Of Fate

**A/N:** Callisto is next. I swear.

)O(

Violette in a dress with her hair washed and styled was not a sight Alexander Fairley had ever expected to see. Yet here she was, clad in dark red fabric that enhanced her curves beautifully while still giving her an air of respectability. Of course, he thought this from a strictly professional perspective, nothing more.

She must have noticed him staring because she said, "Don't kiss me; I drank some poison."

"I wasn't—" As he started to reply, the rest of her words sunk in. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I don't plan on giving our dear William the same warning," Violette explained. "A kiss of death. Very poetic, don't you think?"

"You do not strike me as a poetic sort of lady."

"I'm not really much of a lady in the traditional sense either," she agreed. "But being a spy often means becoming someone you aren't." Her tone here carried a slight hint of something very much like resigned sadness. Fairley wasn't sure if he should ask, but he had to know.

"Does it bother you that you are going to kill someone tonight?"

"Not really," Violette answered after a moment's silence. "Humans are fragile. We die easily. It doesn't take much. You know that better than most. An injury or illness, starvation, plague...It's simply a matter of luck that I'm still here at all." Then he asked her if she truly felt no guilt, for the concept was baffling to him. "Guilt is unproductive. It won't keep me or anyone else alive. If I allowed myself to be crushed by the weight of guilt, people would just die anyway. Enough of this talk. We have a job to do or King Ulysses may soon be dead as well."

Violette sent him to the forest to find the king while she attended to the matter of eliminating the usurper. If their timing was good, Ulysses might be able to get to the castle just before she was arrested for regicide, provided of course that he still lived.

After walking for quite some time, Faiirley came across a tent that looked rather out of place in such a densely forested area with nothing at all around it. Perhaps that was the idea: to conceal it. A woman, who was somewhat plain but with a lovely smile, greeted him and claimed to be the tent's owner. Her name turned out to be Simone, and she dodged his questions mostly, avoiding eye contact.

Violette was right: the whole charade was indeed very sad.

"Where is King Ulysses?" Fairley demanded, knowing they were wasting valuable time.

"I told you already, and the lady who came asking before," Simone insisted. "He's missing. I want to find my sweet Ulysses as much as you do."

"Then who's that sitting on the throne?"

"Well..." Just like that, she had been caught by her own logic. "I...uh..."

"The game is over, Simone," Fairley said surprisingly gently. "Tell me where he is, and maybe King Ulysses will go easy on you. He is a good man. You may only get a day in the stocks."

She began to cry, lamenting her involvement in this ambitious crime turned guilt-ridden nightmare. It wasn't worth the gold anymore, she said. Then Simone told him where to find Ulysses. Fairley entered the tent and saw the king, asleep and utterly oblivious to what was happening around him. Luckily, he had anticipated this and prepared a sleeping draught antidote, which he proceeded to give Ulysses. But its affects were slow and they didn't have time to wait.

"Your Majesty, wake up," Fairley urged. "We have to get back to the castle. Now."

They'd wasted enough time. Watcher only knew what was going on there right now.

)O(

It was time to play the whore, and considering how little William actually knew of his cousin, it shouldn't be difficult to convince him that this was normal. Hopefully he would see it as an unexpected perk of his assumed identity. There was a reason no one had questioned the obviously uncharacteristic behavior of their king: they were stupid, and as it happened, so was the impostor.

"Oh, my handsome and so very intelligent lord," Violette purred as she approached the throne, swaying her hips seductively. "Are we still on for the usual tonight?"

"Of course!" William could hardly mask his excitement. "I always have time for...you."

"Good," she smiled prettily, sitting in his lap. But before he could lay a hand on her, she grabbed his collar and kissed him fiercely, deeply, until the poison worked its magic. Violette waited for the life to leave his eyes, then pulled away. As she stepped back, the usurper's lifeless body fell forward onto the floor.

Now where the hell were Alexander and the real King Ulysses?

Violette began to fear her luck had run out when servant found her standing over the corpse of who he thought was King Ulysses and started calling for the guards.

"Murderess!" he cried, joined by other onlookers. Then the guards were closing in. Violette lifted up her dress and pulled a dagger from one of her boots. A good spy never went anywhere without a weapon, even undercover, sometimes especially undercover. And to be a good spy, one had to also be alive.

She fought three guards for a while, doing reasonably well, before the castle's great doors finally burst open to reveal the true king.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ulysses asked, confused and angry, though he was never actually frightening when he was angry. His guards stared back, speechless. One of them glanced from the dead body to him then back again, uncomprehending.

"Are you all truly so daft?" Violette wondered. She was exasperated with her own people now. "Yes, they look similar, but seriously? You couldn't even tell he wasn't your king when he started throwing anyone into the pit for looking at him the wrong way?"

"You do not have the right to speak," a guard snapped. "You are still a murderess; that man's blood is on your hands!"

"He was a usurper," Ulysses said calmly. "A treacherous wretch who deserved his fate and more. Violette has done a service to this kingdom. She and Surgeon Fairley stepped up when no one else did. They risked their lives should their plans had been discovered. I am extremely grateful to both of them."

"It was my pleasure, your Majesty," the spy replied. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have to go vomit."

King Ulysses' word was clear, and no one stopped her from leaving the scene. She supposed an act of heroism could easily be mistaken for a royal assassination if they didn't have the advantage of knowing what she knew. Violette now had a favor to cash in with the king, which was always a good thing to have, as well as the satisfaction of a job well done. Now to purge the rest of the poison from her body, then pay Alexander a little visit.

)O(

"You missed all the fun, you know."

Fairley looked over his shoulder. Of course Violette would let herself into his clinic and come upstairs. She seemed more comfortable clad in flexible red leather outfit. It exposed certain areas of skin, mostly her legs and one shoulder, not at all something typical women would wear. But then, she was hardly typical.

"Fun, you say?" Obviously their definitions of the word differed quite a bit. Life wasn't a game to him. Dangerous situations were just dangerous, not thrilling. Maybe he simply did not have the kind of faith she did in luck. For most of his life, Fairley had struggled against the tide of fate, refusing to just sit back and let things happen. That's what physicians did. It was his calling to keep sickness and death at bay, but really all he could do was prolong the inevitable. And the guilt...

"I almost got tossed into the pit today." she said it conversationally.

"Only you would think of that as fun."

"Well, me and Beasty have an understanding," Her tone changed then; it became more gentle or perhaps curious. "Hey, are you all right? You're awfully quiet tonight."

"Long day, I suppose."

"But we did good, you and me," she pointed out, lying down beside him on the rather plain bed. In fact, this entire room was rather plain. It only consisted of the absolute necessities, like his archives, wash basin, hearth, and so forth. Violette had laid her head on his shoulder, just as she had the other night. Whether she did so absently or on purpose, Fairley didn't know. "All is right with the world, or at least our kingdom. I'm sure they'll find a way to mess it up again, but that's still something to be proud of, don't you think?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Alexander," Violette whispered, looking up at him. "Now you can kiss me."

For a second he wasn't sure if he'd heard her correctly. And before Fairley could respond, the spy's lips had already found his. Part of him wanted to pull away, as it was the right and professional thing to do. But then her fingers were working at the buttons of his vest, and his own fingers were buried in Violette's surprisingly soft red hair.

For once, Fairley let the tide take him.


	6. Callisto The Sleepless Sorceress

Callisto preferred to be alone. When she had first come here, the more superstitious villagers were wary of her presence and generally shied away form her. They thought she was an evil witch who would cause their crops to whither and their children to be born dead. Callisto assumed the rumors ought to pass eventually, but it took some effort on her part. Specifically, supplying the villagers with curative potions when a moderate outbreak of sickness hit one bleary summer a little under a year after her arrival. This was before Alexander Fairley rose up from a lower-class farming family with a dream of becoming a physician and a practical mind to pursue it.

Yet even now that she had earned the people's trust, the sorceress often isolated herself within her tower. In fact, on the rare occasion that she did go out, it was usually to visit the tavern, which seemed to be the hub of both village life. Anyone with enough money could get a concentrated dose of alcohol or social interaction.

Whenever Callisto made one of her rare appearances, Orpheus the bard always liked to fuss over her. At first she thought maybe he fancied her, but Callisto noticed the way he looked at Constance. Everyone did. Well, everyone except Constance.

Orpheus said he couldn't talk to the dame. He was cursed, apparently. Callisto thought about brewing a love potion for him, but no, she wasn't that kind of sorceress anymore. Callisto refused to go back to a life of peddling bottled lust to sell to passersby so she could scrape up enough money to get somewhere else. She was here to stay.

On one of these evenings, when the tavern was particularly packed and she was particularly uncomfortable, he invited her upstairs to his room for a cup of tea. Anything to get away from the crowd, and that did sound rather nice...

He apologized for the lack of chairs, but in the end Callisto just sat on the bed. Orpheus gave her a clay mug that was warm to the touch. His hands were like a girl's.

"Here, drink this," he said. And she did; the tea slowly relaxed her. "It's mostly wildflowers and sagewort."

"Don't forget a hint of belladonna."

"...How did you know?"

"I'm something of an herbalist."

"Ah. Well, it's just a recipe I used to brew before a performance," Orpheus explained. "I was a nervous wreck back then. I still am sometimes. All those eyes watching, you know?"

She nodded wordlessly. Callisto did know, in fact, she knew very well what he described.

"Why did you become a bard?" she asked.

"Sorry to answer your question with a question, but why did _you_ become a sorceress?"

Callisto shrugged. "I had a gift, I suppose. There was nothing else for me."

"Exactly," Orpheus smiled. "I have a heart full of sad songs, and people listen. It isn't just about entertainment, although you would be surprised how much one is willing to pay to lose themselves in a poem or play, forget about their troubles. It's true we're often under-appreciated, but there are some bards more legendary than the stories they tell."

That was a fair point. "The same could be said of sorcerers."

"And sorceresses, yes. It can be a lonely life."

"I prefer it that way." Callisto told him.

So maybe she couldn't give him bottled love, but the sorceress could give him bottled luck. It was the least she could do. Orpheus had always been kind to her. She never had to earn his trust.

Callisto soon returned home to gather herbs from her garden. Alexander often harvested some herbs occasionally as well to craft his potions, which she didn't mind because he did helped people and also he helped her by crafting sleeping draught.

Crafting the luck potion didn't take long once the herbs were all ground up and bubbling in the cauldron. It took a lot of stirring and a little magic, but soon it was ready. By this point, the sorceress felt tired but knew that she would not be able to quiet her mind enough to actually rest.

That gave her an idea. Callisto decided to try her hand at brewing Orpheus' tea. The recipe was indeed very simple, but effective. She also added a few drops of sleeping draught for good measure.

Callisto woke up a day later, more well rested than she had been in many years.

)O(

**A/N:** Really short chapter, huh? Sorry about that. I'm still trying to get a feel for Callisto's character, and this was all she gave me so far.

I wanted to make the insomniac fatal flaw more prominent than it was in-game. However, that was sort of overshadowed by her solitariness, which is actually a trait but ended up sounding more like extreme shyness or even slight social anxiety. Don't know how that happened.


	7. All The Wine

**A/N:** Next up is our priestess and priest. Lots of conflict there.

)O(

Violette came awake slowly, lazily, staring at the ceiling that she now realized wasn't hers. She also wasn't wearing any clothes, which seemed a bit odd. Oh, that's right, she'd slept at Alexander's clinic last night...with Alexander. This room looked a lot brighter during the day. It hurt her eyes. Violette's head hurt, too. Maybe she'd gone a little overboard with the celebratory wine. Just a little.

For a while she toyed with the idea of sleeping all day, but then Violette figured she ought to find Alexander. She got out of bed and began hunting for her clothes. Before she could put them on, however, the door swung open and a woman entered the room. That was as far as she got before encountering Violette's mostly naked form, hastily covered by a sheet. The woman was either a nurse or about to embark on a long trek through the desert. Honestly, who needed to wear that much?

"Who _are_ you?" the nurse questioned, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm a patient," Violette lied automatically. "I just lost my way...and my clothes." But the dark-skinned nurse merely shook her head, turned on her heel, and went back downstairs. _Well_, she thought to herself, _you sure know how to make a first impression._

She quietly descended the staircase, but she paused at the bottom and watched as Alexander picked leeches off a man's skin and put them back into a jar. Then he caught her eye and looked away.

"Go back upstairs."

"No," Violette replied automatically. "Why?"

"So we can talk privately," His tone became more irritated by the second. "I'm almost done here. Please..."

Violette turned around and did what was asked of her. A few long moments passed before Alexander finally appeared. At first she'd thought it was the nurse again. He found her sitting stiffly on the bed. Alexander lowered himself into a hard wooden chair and sighed.

"Who else knows about this?" he asked.

"Your nurse, for one."

"Shit..." Alexander muttered, which made Violette perk up. She'd never heard him curse before. He was always so bloody proper.

"You said you wanted to talk." she reminded him.

"Violette..."

"Look, I don't want to make this out to be a bigger deal than it is. We had fun last night. I think it's best if we just leave it at that."

"Everything is about fun to you, isn't it?" He sounded almost angry now. "I cannot live like that, Violette."

Violette laughed. "I don't think you know what fun is. So, what? You want to get married now?"

"No, I simply do not wish to pretend last night didn't mean anything."

"It didn't mean what you seem to believe," Violette snapped, frustrated with the whole situation. "I took advantage of you? Is that it?"

Alexander was silent for a moment. Then, "You did not consider my feelings."

"For the Watcher's sake, I was drunk, and you're acting like a damn woman!" She stood up, her face red with fury. "I'm not good enough for you, huh? Just because I'm not prepared to swear to love you and only you until the day I die, and pop out babies for you so they can take over the family clinic!"

"Violette!"

But once she got an idea in her head, there wasn't much hope of talking her out of it. She stormed out, not caring at all how it looked, and did not stop until she was halfway to the tavern. Violette shut her eyes tight against the tears that threatened to spill over. Watcher, now she was acting like a damn woman, too! What the spy really needed was drink, never mind that it had started this whole mess. Violette hadn't felt this low in a long time.

It seemed all the wine in the world couldn't make this any better. Violette stared blankly into her goblet, wondering how something so fantastic and pleasurable had led to something so awful.

"Violette, right?" It was Orpheus, invading her space, interrupting her sulking. "Have you...spoken to Constance, by any chance?" Oh sweet god of wine, that was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with right now.

"I've been a little busy saving the kingdom."

"Fair enough..." He looked slightly embarrassed, but mostly just lost and somewhat concerned. "Are you all right? Forgive me, but you are usually more...peppy...and it's not even close to noon yet." Poor bard, stumbling over his words...

But her reply was clipped, cold, downright rude. "You don't know me."

"Yes, I don't know you. I shouldn't have assumed..." Orpheus was flustered now. "It's just that you said..."

"I'm on it, okay?" Violette finished her wine in one gulp, stood up unsteadily, and headed in Constance's direction. The dame was rather pretty in the way elegant ladies were pretty, all put together and painted up for show. Her expression turned to one of confusion as the spy approached.

"Have we...met?" she asked slowly, baffled by the nerve of this woman, to come up to her and sit down like they were old friends.

"No, but you'd do well to listen to me," Violette replied. "You see that man over there? The bard trying to make it look like he isn't watching us? Well, he's in love with you. Now before you say anything, hear me out. It is the most genuine, disgustingly pure love I've ever seen. He probably writes poems about you. But he doesn't dare tell you himself because he doesn't think he is good enough for you. So if you don't feel the same way, do yourselves both a favor and let him down easy. There is nothing worse than not knowing."

It took Constance a long time to process this information. Of all the things she'd been expecting Violette to say, that was among the last. The dame graciously excused herself, ostensibly to confirm Orpheus' love for her. After that, Violette returned to drowning her sorrows, trying to put the entire affair out of her mind. It wasn't really her business anyway. She was far too cynical to take pleasure in their love if it did turn out that Constance shared his affections. Why couldn't things just be simple, like they were with Fenrel?

Life went on for all of them. Violette immersed herself in work, spent a lot of time feeding Beasty - which caused the executioner to wonder why criminals emerged from the pit only half-eaten, mostly flesh rather than bone - and devoted most of her free time to drinking or gambling. So life returned to normal, but it was somehow less fulfilling than it had been. It lacked that same sense of purpose she had felt before. Something was different now. What she did no longer seemed to matter. Plus war with the Jacobans became increasingly likely as tensions built.

Only a few weeks passed before the invitation arrived. Constance and Orpheus were to be married, and as much as Violette wanted to be genuinely happy for them, especially since she'd had some small part in it, she found this more difficult than it ought to have been. They thanked her personally, of course, when she entered the monastery. It was a small ceremony led by the local Peteran priestess, Iris or whatever her name was. The happy couple exchanged vows and rings, while Iris went on about love and how the Watcher loved it when two people united in the sacred union of love or whatever. The whole thing kind of sickened Violette.

"They look very happy together." She turned, and there was Alexander, wearing his best clothes. "I take it you do not like weddings?"

"What was your first clue?" Violette folded her arms.

"You're still angry, I see," he remarked sadly. "I thought you would be over it by now."

"Yeah." she replied much quieter. "So did I."

"I never expected you to marry me. The last thing I wanted was to upset you. I was...overwhelmed, is all. I just needed to know what happened between us was not completely meaningless."

"Well, apparently it wasn't."

"Truly?"

"You know I can't promise anything," she sighed. "But...I think there is potential here...for us. We could see what happens. It will probably ruin your reputation though."

Alexander laughed, smiling. "You are quite a woman, Violette Trender."


	8. Sister Iris

**A/N:** Wow, it has been bloody long time since I've updated this, hasn't it? I do apologize for that. My inspiration just...bunt out. But it's back, at least for now. Please review so I know you're not angry, or even if you are, so I know that.

)O(

Iris' life in the Peteran priesthood was a very simple one. It was much easier to focus on the Watcher when one's life was not cluttered with worldly, frivolous matters. But even she noticed when the massive Jacoban cathedral sprang up seemingly overnight. It was a grand structure, so unlike her modest monastery, built of gray stone with Gothic arches and deep purple embellishments. Its steeple must have reached so high that even the Watcher couldn't help but look on with awe.

Not even Iris could deny the beauty of the thing, despite the feeling of dread that crept over her at the sight of it. What if her flock were tricked into converting? She prayed that fear would not win out over love. Jacobans didn't believe the Watcher heard their prayers, or cared enough to answer them. Theirs was a god of hate and fury so unimaginably terrible...Iris always tried to lead a peaceful life, encourage coexistence and detesting war, but thinking of how the Jacoban clergy actually forced people to believe as they did stirred something very dark inside her; it was frightening.

They could fear the Watcher if they liked, but that did not mean she had to fear them. Iris decided to march right up to that cathedral and make it clear they were not wanted here. She was a large woman, and could be rather intimidating if her life hadn't been devoted to avoiding conflict, especially physical violence, whenever possible. The problem was that Jacobans had no such qualms with using force to make a point.

Her yellow robes contracted sharply with the cathedral's purple interior. It became instantly apparent that she didn't belong there. Iris was shocked to see a sizable gathering of peasants within, drawn by the novelty perhaps. They really got a chance to see such marvels of architecture.

The differences between herself and the Jacoban priest were not just theological, they were physical, too. Where Iris was short, plump and round-faced, he stood tall, thin and bald. Like all Jacoban priests, he was also a coward at heart, spineless before his god as well as the average mortal. But because of Iris' own faith, she was not permitted to hold that against him.

"You must repent!" the bald man was currently shouting at a wide-eyed crowd of nervous and shocked villagers who frankly were unaccustomed to being shouted at. "The Watcher is not so kind as you have been falsely led to believe. His nature is not your fault, but your thoughtless sinning is! And one day you will know His mighty wrath!"

"What sort of wrath?" asked a peasant doubtfully.

"It is already upon us! Just look at this world we live in: full of death, despair, poverty, wars" - most of which involved the Jacoban clergy - "and wicked heathens! All of it are only small expressions of the Watcher's great anger!"

Iris knew he had a right to his own opinions about the Watcher, and it should be enough that these people were willing to have faith in anything, but the world was already a dark enough place without men like this claiming a vengeful god ruled it as well. It had absolutely nothing to do with the possibility of her followers being swayed to switch churches with threats of divine punishment, oh no.

"You're wrong," Iris said as calmly as she could, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. All eyes turned to look at her, including the priest's rather beady and menacing ones.

"Excuse me?" he said with barely contained disgust. "You dare to question the Watcher's final Word, as recorded by His prophet Jacob?"

"Yes." she replied. "You are just spreading needless fear."

"Are you denying all the evils that happen every day are proof of the Watcher's infinite displeasure?"

"Yes!" Iris felt a pious rage building up inside her. "Yes I am! Bad things do happen every day, but so do good things! And everyone knows good always prevails in the end. Why do we pray? We do it because we want more good things in our lives, but an angry god wouldn't care." Her voice lowered dramatically. Priests were experts at creating dramatic effect. "And what use would gods be then? There are tyrants to get drunk on power and torture people - No offense meant to King Ulysses, it's just a figure of speech - but how do you explain good things, if not the Watcher?"

But he had an answer for that one. "There are no good things, but there are times when the Watcher is content, and nothing happens. That is what you perceive as good: a lack of bad things."

"So that's it, then?" Iris asked, stunned. "The best we can hope for is...nothing?"

"Exactly," And he proceeded to explain to the others how such blissful nothing can be achieved by donating a moderate amount of gold to the church. That's all they wanted, really, a chance to live out their lives more or less content. People were simple folk; they never asked for much to start with. So long as a plague did not fall on their house and their crops survived the season, it didn't matter if the harvest didn't magically double in size overnight, so long as it didn't vanish either.

Good things happened, but the only reason anyone noticed was due to bad things also happening. Perhaps a god was watching it all, occasionally poking at it, randomly dealing a bit of luck this way and that.

This was, essentially, the personal philosophy of Violette Trender. However, if it caught on, there would be a definite decline in the kingdom's moral fabric, which was stretched thin enough as it was.

Iris left the cathedral quickly, lest she be forced to leave first. And she wasn't immediately struck down by a bolt of lightning, which she took as confirmation from above that she was right.


End file.
